


A Winter's Night

by wooden_turtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Poetry, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooden_turtle/pseuds/wooden_turtle
Summary: Hermione couldn’t help it; her life was just so dull lately. It turned out that the life of a Ministry worker, however reformative and productive, just didn’t cut it when you’d spent a year on the run from a genocidal Dark Lord.So, here she was. Getting her adrenaline fix by sending a Valentine which might as well mean political suicide should she be found out.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	A Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the Cissamione Discord for inspiration :)
> 
> Have some Valentine's Day fluff!
> 
> Update: fixed the spacing thing.

_ This is a terrible idea. _

Hermione bit her lip and looked the card over once again. It was as nondescript as a Valentine card could possibly be. Creamy, thick, high-quality paper. The standard black ink that was the staple of Ministry communiqu é s. She hadn’t even dared write the thing herself: she had used a Dictaquill to conceal her by now well-known handwriting. The only detail she added herself was a little heart that she used in place of a signature.

> _ You are a winter’s night: you might be dark by name, _
> 
> _ Yet you are radiant and charming all the same. _
> 
> _ Your eyes compare to ice. Inviting, they are not; _
> 
> _ Yet they reflect the fiery passion of your thought. _
> 
> _ Your lips are rowan red. I try to stay alert, _
> 
> _ And yet I’m captivated like a starving bird. _
> 
> _ You’re also dangerous. Should one perchance get lost, _
> 
> _ One might then find oneself fall victim to the frost. _
> 
> _ What else am I to say? You are a winter’s night. _
> 
> _ Your bare existence has me shiver with delight. _
> 
> _ — _ **_♡_ **

Inadvisable? Yes. But just re-reading this, she got butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t help it; her life was just so  _ dull  _ lately. It turned out that the life of a Ministry worker, however reformative and productive, just didn’t cut it when you’d spent a year on the run from a genocidal Dark Lord.

So, here she was. Getting her adrenaline fix by sending a Valentine which might as well mean political suicide should she be found out. She wondered if she was the only one: apparently, in the last few years, the annual workplace Valentine exchange had doubled in popularity.

Not that she thought her recipient would be getting plenty, captivating as she was. After all, despite her spotless five-year track record in the Department of International Magical Cooperation (and quite a few accomplishments to her name), Narcissa Black, formerly Malfoy, was still largely shunned by her peers.

Hermione had always been polite to her, if a bit frosty at the start, and she was quick to interfere when she noticed someone was crossing the line. However, it was only lately, when they started working together on an inter-Department assignment involving some atrocious discrepancies in Creature Law across the ICW countries, and Hermione, in turn, started paying more attention than strictly necessary to the unfairly gorgeous witch, that she noticed the extent of the problem.

Oh, the witch never let it show that the silent treatment was getting to her in any way, nor would Hermione ever be bringing that up in any circumstances. She knew better. Just… It was  _ unfair _ . She deserved a fresh start, and she was granted it by the Court, and she wasn’t actually getting it.

Hermione shook her head. She was stalling, and she knew it. She cast a handy Auror spell she learned via Harry to dispel any lingering magical evidence that might link her to the note and took it in her gloved hand. A Disillusioning and Silencing charm later, she ventured towards the anonymous box set up in the Atrium. It was after hours, and the coast should be clear.

She completed her task without incident, and, with her heart beating loudly and a triumphant grin tugging at her lips, Flooed home, into her tiny, solitary flat.

~*~

Her plan had seemed to work, and she tried not to find it underwhelming.

Narcissa had been positively glowing the day the cards were sent out, her usual icy politeness replaced with quiet mirth. Hermione had even heard her  _ chuckle _ when a committee member cracked a particularly apt joke. She counted that a resounding success.

Her part seemed to have remained anonymous. No one treated her in an unusual way, not even Narcissa. Hermione herself had received a dozen Valentines (sometimes she could deal without the whole Golden Girl publicity), but nothing that caught her eye. Everything was normal.

She found herself thinking that a part of her  _ wanted  _ to be caught out, and ignored the thought as much as she could.

By the time February was drawing to a close, she had almost forgotten the whole affair.

~*~

“So, your agenda for today is meeting with Mister Diggory about the Werewolf Reform Appeal at nine, then your usual focus time, then there’s your brunch with Lady Black—”

“My  _ what? _ ” Hermione interrupted, astonished. It was rather rude, and her aide looked at her in surprise before elaborating.

“The brunch to discuss your further strategy within the Creature Migration project?.. Lady Black sent me a memo the other day, there’s been an ICW session, and they accepted some of the amendments you had drafted. She sent me a summary with her preliminary ideas, too. She said you had discussed it?..” her assistant finished, a bit quizzical.

Hermione blinked, thoughts flashing at an incredible speed in the span while her eyes were closed. Discussed the session, yes; the amendments, yes; a cozy teashop brunch to go over the changes?  _ No _ . She prided herself on her memory. She could recall the conversation word for word, if need be, and it most certainly did not feature brunch.

However, admitting that would be unnecessarily awkward, and truthfully, comparing their notes was probably a good idea. Narcissa often had unusual insight into others’ motivations; that was part of why she was so good at her job. Moreover… Not that her slight crush on the woman was in any way advisable, but she wouldn’t say no to spending extra time in her company.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

She opened her eyes and schooled her features into an apologetic smile. “Oh, that’s right, sorry. I thought it was scheduled on Wednesday, my mistake. Please leave the materials here; I’ll look them through before the meeting.”

Her assistant nodded, smiling, and continued with the day’s agenda. Hermione wasn’t paying her full attention to the rundown, though. She was still puzzling over this discrepancy.

She returned from her meeting with Diggory only mildly infuriated, which she counted as a success. The man had been a raging bigot in regard to creatures (and werewolves, who were  _ not  _ creatures, thank you very much), but she could tell he was slowly coming around.  _ He might yet accomplish something useful on the job. Maybe. Someday. _

Hermione sighed and reached for Narcissa’s folder. Might as well get this out of the way.

As she leafed through the report, her eye caught on something colorful. She frowned and reached between the pages, tugging out a small rectangle of thick, textured paper.

It was a watercolor vignette, not very detailed but masterfully done. Hermione’s first impression was that it looked like something young ladies learn to draw in Victorian romance novels. A colorful bird—a waxwing—was depicted sitting on a bare branch, holding a bunch of rowanberries in its beak.

Hermione stared at the picture for a while, puzzled, until it  _ clicked _ , and it felt like all the blood rushed out of her face.

~*~

She debated not going, she really did. But in the end, skipping the brunch would only get her deeper into trouble.

So she showed up at the teashop, stated her reservation, and was promptly shown to a classy private booth that had a politely smiling Narcissa Black seated within it, seemingly without a care in the world.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” she said pleasantly. “I took the liberty of ordering us a pot of tea.”

Hermione gave a stilted nod and scrambled to return the greeting as she took the place across Narcissa. A cup of green tea was already poured in front of her. Judging by the smell, she guessed jasmine. The waiter bowed politely and left, and Hermione felt as if he was a lifeline which she, drowning, failed to grasp.

Narcissa took a sip from her cup, keeping her silence, but up close, Hermione saw that her smile had a mischievous edge to it. It was unfairly beautiful.

It took another two minutes and Hermione placing her cup on the saucer with a clatter caused by her shaking hand for Narcissa to break the silence first. She inclined her head languidly, her hair splaying out in threads of liquid gold, and raised an eyebrow.

“So, you think me dangerous?”

Hermione inhaled audibly, exhaled forcibly, and found herself at a complete loss for words. She took a shaky breath once again, but all that escaped her mouth was, “How?”

Narcissa gave a smug chuckle. (And wow, Hermione had never seen her act so emotional in public; it was doing… things, to her brain.) “I can only tell you if you promise to keep it secret.”

“I will keep it secret if you agree to keep this whole situation secret,” Hermione replied, a touch desperately.

Narcissa chuckled again. “This is a rather unbalanced trade, you know. After all, I could just not tell you anything and owe you nothing.” She took in Hermione’s mortified expression and continued, “However… I will agree to this to prove that I do not wish you any harm.

“You see… There is this family spell, which, while harmless, is technically considered Blood magic and therefore illegal. To simplify, it allows one to locate the author of a missive if said missive tells the truth.”

“But…” Hermione interrupted, frowning.

“I know a Dictaquill memo when I see one, Miss Granger. Dictaquills, however, generally cannot draw symbols,” Narcissa retorted with a smirk.

“But… What would… You said the missive has to tell the truth, how does this… _Oh_. Well, shit.” This was bad. This was definitely _much_ more than Hermione had intended to reveal, even in her deepest thoughts.

“I am rather touched by the poem, by the way,” Narcissa added, smiling. “And by the sentiment.” Her usual red lipstick made her smile even more captivating (unfair!), and the relevant lines of the poem flitted through her head.

“Oh,” she thought of a relatively safe topic, “then I should say your vignette is beautiful. Thank you. Even if I almost had a heart attack…” she muttered, loudly enough for Narcissa to hear it and chuckle again. Hermione was getting rather fond of the sound.

“So, to recap…” Hermione sighed. “You used an  _ illegal Blood magic tracking ritual  _ to find the author of your Valentine—which happens to be me—that only worked because I really… I really did mean it. So you invited me on a  _ date _ —”

“Discussing Ministry business during a meal can hardly be called a date,” Narcissa quipped.

“Do I look like I’m discussing Ministry business to you?” Hermione asked incredulously, aware that her cheeks were hot with a blush.

“No, but I find I much prefer the alternative,” Narcissa replied, and here was that fiery spark in her usually ice-cold eyes. Hermione’s breath caught. She briefly debated pinching her arm but decided against it, in case she  _ weren’t _ dreaming.

“...So, you invited me on a date. And promised not to tell anyone if I keep my mouth shut about the  _ illegal Blood magic tracking ritual _ , and now you’re… complimenting my poetry.”

“That is about right,” Narcissa smirked again. “For the record, I would also like to add that you place a lot of emphasis on the ‘illegal’ bit for someone who illicitly brewed Polyjuice in a bathroom when they were thirteen.”

“How do you even—oh, oh no.  _ Draco _ .”

Narcissa hummed. “I propose we postpone this discussion until a future time.”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Hermione was overwhelmed as it was. She really needed some time to calm down and get her bearings. “Uh… How about we actually go through that summary of yours? I have my own notes to compare.”

Narcissa chuckled yet again. “And this, Miss Granger, is why I like you.”

“Oh, call me Hermione, for Merlin’s sake,” Hermione snapped, before the rest of the sentence registered and she let out an undignified squeak. All right, then…

“It is my pleasure,  _ Hermione, _ ” Narcissa drawled in a low voice, and Hermione felt heat pooling in her stomach.

Well, that had backfired quickly.

~*~

It had proved unwieldy to compare notes while seated across from each other, or that was Narcissa’s excuse when she changed positions to sit at Hermione’s side. Not that Hermione was complaining, but she was finding the arrangement detrimental to her concentration. Still, she managed.

“So, this is us halfway done with the necessary legislation,” she declared triumphantly after they finished cross-checking the summary with the list of potential loopholes she had assembled. “I’d say we did a great job.”

“I quite agree,” Narcissa murmured, content. Hermione startled. Without the distraction of the document, she was becoming much too aware of the way her side was pressed flush to Narcissa’s, their faces barely inches apart. She tensed involuntarily, and then her body attempted to tense all over again when Narcissa stroked her hand that was lying on the table. She did make an effort to relax, though.

“Hush,” Narcissa added in the same low voice. “I’m not going to eat you.” She took in Hermione’s fiercely blushing face and added, amused, “Well, not unless you so desire. Oh, all right, this is not helping…”

Hermione wasn’t sure “helping” was a category she could contemplate at the moment. It was taking all of her willpower not to whimper.

“Here…” Narcissa continued, stroking her hand again. “I really am quite interested in you, and I wouldn’t want to cause you harm. We can take it slow if that is what you need.” She maneuvered her other hand from between them and used it to cup Hermione’s cheek gently. Icy eyes met brown ones, striving to convey calm and emotion at once.

Hermione remembered exactly the moment when her rational brain chose to shut down. She shivered, overwhelmed, and then she was relaxing into Narcissa’s touch, looking deep into her eyes, and then the feeling of Narcissa’s warmth and their touching and her own arousal wasn’t so overwhelming anymore because she didn’t need to  _ fight it _ . Her gaze fell to Narcissa’s full, red lips, and she didn’t need to think because there was only one course of action she could plausibly pursue.

She nodded in affirmation to an unvoiced question and crossed the few inches of distance between their faces, capturing Narcissa’s lips with her own.


End file.
